


Death can be a cure

by ucannibal (orphan_account)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 04:25:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8357107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ucannibal





	

The air around him is cold as he steps into the bath tub, the drip from the faucet creates smooth ripples over the surface as his own legs create waves.

 

The water is tepid, sitting down as he takes the knife and holds it to his forearm. Wrist exposed and showing the paleness of his skin in the light as he presses the blade down gently.

 

It’s cold, but it doesn’t take long for it to warm from his body’s temperature. His heart steady as he finds calmness coming over him. A deep breath before he lets the blade slide through his skin easily, he knew it would, he spent most of the day sharpening it.

 

Blood starts to trickle from the wound he has created. Funny enough, it is not as painful as what he would have thought it would be.

 

There is no room for error here however. Making the knife slice up, cutting up his forearm. It makes for a quicker bleed, one that is harder to undo if he is found. But he doubts that seeing as he doesn’t have any friends.

 

He is alone in this world, it echo’s through his mind along with the looks and glances he has received from others. Reading their thoughts about him.

 

A moment of consideration is only given to his dogs, currently with Alana. Having lied to her and stated he was going fishing for the weekend.

 

He was kind enough to leave a note for when she returned though. The last thing he wanted for the one he had held close to his heart that had turned him away, he didn’t want her to see him like this. For her to remember him like this.

 

Nothing makes a damn difference to his current predicament though.

 

His blood is mixing with the water, a strange clear red. He had often dreamed of bathing in blood, being submerged in that blood that had been shed from the killers he had hunted.

 

The blade of the knife is pressed in to his other arm. His cut unsteady as his body begins to shake, a passing thought of applying pressure to the wounds as he sets the knife to the side. Along with any efforts of trying to survive.

 

There is a moment he wonders if he is going to hell, or if he is already there. Uncaring as he closes his eyes and tries to distract himself from how his body is reacting as his blood drains around him. The water becoming darker as he breathes out and lets his head slip beneath the water.

 

The struggle for air is temporary, inhaling under the water as the fluid started to fill his lungs. Then the thrashing of limbs as his body fought. But the damage is too great, slowly it dwindles as he sinks back below the water, head just poking out as he closes his eyes and hopes that his dogs at least are well looked after.


End file.
